I straightened up and met her eyes directly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I bailed on you. On Finn. Hearing how… polite you were on the phone yesterday? That told me just how pissed off you really were.”
The professional mask she wore cracked slightly, a glimmer of hurt crossing her features before she could suppress it. “Finn asked about you,” she said quietly. “Multiple times.”
The words landed like a physical blow. I closed my eyes briefly, the image of his disappointment making me feel even worse.
“I told him sometimes grown-ups have to work unexpectedly,” she continued. “He understands that concept pretty well, living at a resort.”
“Still. I should have?—”
“What, Chase?” For the first time, a hint of frustrationcolored her voice. “Abandoned your client during a crisis? Let your business suffer? That’s not realistic.”
I paced a few steps, the restless energy of exhaustion and emotion making it impossible to stand still. “Honestly? Trying to manage that Franson mess last night, knowing I’d blown off our meeting and dinner… it sucked.”
I gestured vaguely around the room, trying to articulate feelings I was still processing myself. “This whole thing—launching the firm, the massive scope of the resort project, trying to figure out us…” I motioned between Harper and me, the unspoken complexity of our relationship hanging in the air. “It’s a lot, okay?”
“I know it is.” She rose to her feet, watching me with unreadable eyes.
Moving to the window, I stared out at the manicured resort grounds without really seeing them. “Some moments, like yesterday, feel like I’m juggling knives, like I’m spread so thin I’m going to drop everything. I’m terrified of failing, Harper.” The confession emerged almost against my will. “Failing with Latitudes, failing this renovation… failing you.”
When I turned back to her, the professional mask had disappeared. Harper’s expression had softened into something more vulnerable, her eyes fixed on me. “I get it, better than most people would. Running a business while trying to maintain a personal life isn’t easy. Especially with a new venture.”
I nodded, relief washing through me at her understanding.
“But…” She hesitated, her fingers tracing a pattern on her desk calendar. Then her eyes met mine, direct and honest. “When you feel like you’re failing or like it’s too much… Is this”—she gestured between us—“part of the problem? Are we making it harder?” She paused, shoulders tensing. “Do you need to take a step back?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. My immediate instinct was to deny it, to reassure her without hesitation.
But something stopped me, perhaps the bone-deep exhaustion or the memory of my conflicted feelings last night. For a second, I considered it. Would halting this passionate but increasingly complicated relationship make things simpler? Would it allow me to focus on the business without the added emotional investment?
It was only a moment of consideration, barely a heartbeat, but Harper saw it. Her face registered the hesitation, her eyes filling with hurt before her expression composed itself again.
“No.” The word came out firmly from my mouth, leaving no room for doubt. I crossed back to her desk in two quick strides. “Absolutely not. Taking a step back from you is the last thing I want, Harper. Our relationship isn’t the complication making things harder. It’s the reason the hard stuff feels worth tackling.”
She watched me, measuring my sincerity against the hesitation she’d witnessed.
“But finding the balance between everything…” I continued. “I’m still figuring that out, and I’ll get better at juggling. But, baby, I need a little help here too. I’m in a field where shit goes sideways on a regular basis. We need to find a way to deal with that. And we will.”
The tension in her shoulders eased a touch, and a small smile—the first since I’d entered her office—curved her lips. “I knew even last night I wasn’t being fair to you. I was disappointed, sure, but I’ve seen enough construction to know how these things go. I shouldn’t have gone cold on you.”
“You’re allowed to be disappointed,” I countered.
“Maybe.” She rose from her chair and rounded the desk, closing the distance between us. “But I also know what it’s like to have a million responsibilities pulling you in different directions. I deal with that every day between Finn, my family, and this place. I was hardly acting like a supportive partner last night. So, I’m sorry too.”
Up close, I could see the shadows under her eyes, carefully concealed with makeup. Had she slept poorly too? The thought both comforted and troubled me.
“Finn still wants you to help him with his LEGO spaceship,” she said, more upbeat now. “He’s very proud of it. Says it’s anarchitectural masterpiecethat you’ll appreciate.”
I laughed, genuine warmth replacing some of the tension in my chest. “A budding designer, huh? I’d love to see it.”
“Maybe dinner tomorrow? If your crisis is resolved by then?”
“I’ll make it work,” I promised, then winced. “That sounded like?—”
“Like something I’d say when I’m overcommitting?” Harper raised an eyebrow, a hint of her usual playfulness returning. “Welcome to my world.”
We both laughed, the sound breaking the last of the heavy atmosphere.
I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry about yesterday.”
